Which one is the real you?
The cruel guy threatening and cold
or the one that once held my hand while we crossed the road
Are you the guy tearing me down happy to leave me with nothing or the one holding our baby saying “isn’t she something?”
How can you be this Jekyll and Hyde
blaming me for the destruction when you always lied?
Who do you see reflected back in the mirror?
Which one of those men this whole time was the real you?
I’ve almost forgotten the one who’s heart I wanted to keep protected and close
I’ll mourn for that compassionate man that I laughed with and opened myself to the most
but I’ll never be able to reconcile that shining example of the man I once fell for so hard
to the residue left behind by this contemptible new coward
About the Creator
Cheryl Chastain
I’m just a woman who writes by day and paints by night to cope with this thing called life.
Twitter @ CherylRChastain
Check out my ig @chereneechastain
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Just Sixty Seconds
Oliver sat at a cold, grey steel-covered table. He knew he was next. The longer he sat here, the more confident he knew he wouldn’t make it. His hands were tied to the chair he was sitting on, pushed up against the steel table. A small camera in the corner of the ceiling with a tiny red flashing light was the only thing he was focused on. He felt sick to the stomach. He knew he didn’t have long.
By Joshua Maggs7 days ago in Fiction
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